Sacredieu! || Lysandre / Clair
The man was stupid. He was more than that: he was rude, self-righteous! A know-it-all prick who loved to involve himself in other people’s affairs! Oh yes, Lysandre was over the moon for any opportunity to ‘help’!
She spat a thick wad of spit on the ground. It didn’t matter if he had her cape. With all the bullshit he gave her today, he could keep the stupid thing. Clair shoved open the gate doors and walked through them in a huff.
In town, the sun had just started to set. Blazing oranges transitioned into cooling purples, and thin clouds wisped across the sky. Though the sunset was beautiful, it reminded her of how incredibly wasted the day was. And it was all because of him. Clair balled her hands into fists. There was no way she was going to stay one more second in this town if he was going to be there.
She had to leave. Clair took the steps two at a time, moving so fast that her feet appeared to be gliding over its surface. All her rushing took its toll on her knee; the accident from earlier finally caught up with her. Each step shot sparks of fire through her knee and up her leg. Clair winced but moved to ignore it. She’d been hurt worse before; this was nothing to worry about.
Clair did her best to navigate her way back to the Pokémon Center. She’d go in, get her stuff, and leave. She needed to be moving on, anyway. She didn’t have the privilege of staying in the country for an extended period of time.
The nurse took one glance at Clair’s knee and immediately declined her demand to leave. Taken aback, she began arguing with him, telling him exactly what she was going to do and when she was going to do it. There was no way they were going to keep her there.
Never had anyone in Ambrette Town heard of a foreigner declining treatment. Clair, it seemed, was the first—and she was dead set on leaving right now. Not even the doctor could calm her down. Clair refused listen about how she could screw up her knee if she kept on like she was. They ended up having to force her down as they wrapped her knee in an Ace bandage and cooled it with ice.
Due to her incessant arguing, Clair earned herself a free checkup, complete with a free room. She spent the rest of the night miserable and alone; her dragons were far too large to keep her company.
The next day, Clair followed the doctor’s orders and slipped the brace over her knee. She hated that she had to spend the night, but for once she would do it their way. Her knee was starting to feel better. The thought of permanent injury was not something she wanted to risk, either. When she finished changing, Clair grabbed her bag, Poké Balls, and checked out. She made sure to give the nurse on duty a nasty look on her way out.
It was a beautiful morning. The air was crisp, salty, and everything that yesterday should have been. Clair took a deep breath; this was nice. After all the troubles from before, she felt good. Clair nodded, eager to begin morning routine. A brisk jog would be the perfect exercise for her knee.
But first she needed to greet an old friend. She made her way to the beach, pleased to have it to herself. Gyarados would enjoy swimming here. Clair set her belongings by the steps, taking out a single Poké Ball before hiding them in the shadows. "You’ll be free soon,“ she promised, kissing its scratched surface.
Clair discarded her clothes and knee brace, leaving them on her bag before walking to the shore. The water was cold, chilling her toes and sending a wave of shivers up her spine. No wonder the beach was empty. While chillier than she’d expected, it was no cooler than the waters inside the Dragon’s Den. Clair walked deeper into the ocean until it reached her navel. She shivered again. It was even more cold this far out.
Don’t even think about going back, Clair scolded herself. Gyarados is more important. And it was true: Gyarados had been cooped up in his Poké Ball since she’d arrived several days ago. She hated to keep her dragons in them—it was so unnatural. How could they be free inside them? Her hand tightened around the sphere. She would let him swim for as long as she could.
"Gyarados, let’s go!” Clair called, thrusting the Poké Ball in front of her. The large serpent materialized where the coast gave way to deep water. Gyarados took one wary glance at his surroundings before roaring with glee. Clair smiled. This was where he belonged.
It was only after he stretched his scales did Gyarados turn his massive head towards her. Clair swam out to meet him, holding on to him as she treaded water. "It’s been too long,“ she said, stroking his scales. Gyarados hummed, a pleasing sound that rumbled through his belly.
Clair remained by his side for several minutes, telling him about the man who tormented her, how it was all because of him that she’d hurt her knee. Gyarados growled at this. "He shouldn’t be bothering me anymore,” Clair assured him. "I made my point clear. After everything he put me through yesterday…“ She shook her head. "How dense could he be?”
Clair stopped speaking then, her gaze focused on something in the water. It was brown, and floated ever closer to Gyarados’ side. It didn’t look right: the object didn’t seem to be floating on the water, but rather in it. Puzzled, Clair moved around Gyarados to get a closer look. It moved too much like something to be nothing…
The creature raised itself out of the water and stared at her with red eyes. As it came near, Clair noticed that its body was reminiscent of a Horsea’s. But something was wrong. Its movements weren’t as smooth as they should: the Pokémon struggled to remain upright. Gyarados’ attention was on it, too, unwavering as the creature swam weakly to his side. It struggled to regain its breath.
Despite not knowing what kind of Pokémon it was, Clair wasn’t going to let it suffer. It came to them for help. Immediately she was beside it, cradling it in her hands. "It’s okay, I’m here,“ Clair murmured, her movements gentle. Old scars littered its purple, upward-facing snout.
She pressed a soft finger into its side, relieved to find it understood her intentions. It turned to its side, allowing her to example its injuries. There was a gash that ran from the blunt spike on its back to its left fin—what attacked it? The fin itself was shredded into ribbons; Clair had no idea how it was able to swim as well as it had in its condition.
She stroked its dull scales. Its tenacity impressed her. But this Pokémon was in bad shape. When was it attacked? How long ago? Even if she were to treat it, would that be enough to save it? Clair was filled with determination. I have to try.
“I’ve got medicine in my bag,” she told it, nestling the Pokémon in the crook of Gyarados’ scales. The tip of its tail had three leaf-like fins. In the dark water, the Pokémon resembled a piece of rotten kelp. Had the situation not been dire, Clair would have found its camouflage amusing. "Just stay with Gyarados, he’ll protect you.” Clair gave it a tender smile. "You’re going to be okay.“
I’m going to save you, she reaffirmed, heading back to shore. They were quite a ways out, but Clair was a strong swimmer. It wouldn’t take long for her to reach her bag and grab what she needed. Her clan’s medicine was a mixture of plants and herbs that put any man-made ingredient to shame. Bandages, definitely. Using a Poké Ball on it was also a possibility. Clair frowned. She didn’t want to resort to catching it to save it, but she would do what she must. It was the only way.
Clair was just about out of the water when she spied a man’s tall figure on the boardwalk. She could feel his eyes on her, and even from this distance she recognized him. His blazing red hair and full beard was poison to her soul.
"The fuck does he want,” she growled. Why was he always around? It was like he’d made it his mission to annoy her. She’d seen—and to her disgust, touched—too much of that man than she ever wanted to.
Clair’s hands balled into fists. He was not going to hinder her. Not this time.
The longer Lysandre thought on the events of the prior afternoon, the more worried he became for the woman's knee, and the more confused on how she seemed to fault him for falling. It was an honest concern – he was quiet and not distracting her in his presence while she climbed down, and simple accidents could happen even to the seasoned individual. Still, he would begrudge no woman or man their fearsomeness, their energy or their fires. It made them more interesting to be about.
As for her knee- the real worry there wasn't that it would not get the proper care – there were people aplenty who knew how to properly care for such an injury – it was the fact that she would not seek it or work to keep it healing. A person like this woman, Clair, had too much fire in them, and so much pride…Lysandre knew firsthand the pitfalls of pride and arrogance. His youth had seen him fall into many of those traps.
“That very much could have gone better.” He mumbled to himself, hands shoved deep into his jogging pants pocket. His heart thumped pleasantly, thickly in his chest, invigorated in its recent morning exercise through the small, seaside town. It was nothing special, or too strenuous, and by all accounts he should be leaving – but that desperate, hopeful little part of him wanted still to catch sight of Clair one more time. He had her cape; it was like the handkerchief boon a lady gave to her knight lover in times long, long ago. At least, in that silly, childish part of his mind, the association was made.
It really wasn't so fantastical.
Fate was, despite all shortcomings on her part, a beautiful woman smiling upon him. The shock of blue hair emerging from the water's edge was enough to tell him that who he wanted to see was present. A quick examination of the scene further out told him that there was something more happening: a Gyarados crowning the horizon, seeming to watch over something was the hint of that. From where he stood he dared not to assume anything about the gestures she made – or if she even saw him – but the thought of her knee and there being a problem drew him in closer.
Bracing himself for the sign and sight of any possible anger from Clair with a deep breath in, Lysandre began to job towards her.
And while he was not expecting a pleasant greeting, or even a 'hello' really, the last thing he expected was for the woman to just walk past him. Lips parting just slightly, the native man slowly swiveled on his heels to watch her departure. Her jaw was clenched tightly, as though she was battling against some pain or illness – but the only thing that he could think of being such was himself.
Somehow, it wasn't all too surprising.
He was about to say something to her, to follow her, but now that he had a closer look he realized something else: she was wearing only undergarments. As she was now, each step showed off the tone of her legs and the rippling work of her muscles beneath the skin. The muscles of her back were also easily evident – with only the relatively thin of strap of her sports bra to obscure her skin he could see nearly everything. Clair's arms captures his attention too, not quite as much as her powerful thighs – but the curve of her biceps were more than a bit appealing. He could even see the crisscross of a few scars on her back; raised white lines on her skin that told of all the hard effort she put in with creatures far stronger than man every day of her life.
Even though it was more than rude and more than a little inappropriate to watch her body movement the way he was, but he couldn't help it. Lysandre even cleared his throat, following after her slowly and watching her kneel to rummage through a bag she had hidden near where he was standing just a few moments ago. He walked slowly towards her, eyes still low on her form and sweeping up and down the curve of her back. For a woman so rough and who worked in the wilds so often, it was surprising to see that her skin seemed so smooth and relatively unblemished – the scars didn't do anything more than add character to her.
Lysandre wanted to grab her attention – it would be so easy to place his hand on her shoulder or her back and garner her attention, but he knew that would lead to a likely violent outcome. Instead, he came down on one knee, hand hovered above her shoulder before speaking again. “Clair, what's going on? Is that your Gyarados out there? What is it looking after? Is your knee alright? You fell something awful yesterday, you could barely walk on it. You swam back though, you're soaking – you shouldn't do that. Let me swim out there to take care of the problem. You need to rest it.”
“Leave me alone.” The dragon woman snarled, turning her head just enough so he could barely see the side of her face. The scowl came across clear in the eye he could see and the lines of her face – and then she was back into the bag, digging through it with an ever-escalating desperation or frustration.
Then it was bad wasn't it? Even if she was something of a dramatic person – this seemed bad. Steeling his face into something significantly more serious, he placed his hand loosely on her shoulder – not curling his fingers around the curve or gripping her, so that she could just shrug and he would move his hand. But he wanted her attention, he wanted her to see that he was serious. “If this – whatever it is – is as serious as you are treating it, then let me help. I'm able to, I'm certainly capable. You just need to tell me what is happening.”
